


Crikey!

by CousinSerena, GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Cloaca, Hemipenes, Humor, M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), crocodile hunter - Freeform, non-con handling of snake genitalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22788136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinSerena/pseuds/CousinSerena, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster
Summary: In this “lost episode” of Steve Irwin’s Crocodile Hunter, the Australian wildlife expert is exploring the British countryside.  While shooting the episode, he discovers a certain exotic non-native snake. To be exact, a red-bellied black snake with yellow eyes who’s just trying to take a nap.  Crikey, what a beauty!*No sneks were harmed in the making of this fic, although one demon was slightly embarrassed. For the record, examining snakes in the manner described is not painful to them, especiallly when carried out by professionals. Nonetheless please pay attention to tags, thanks :)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 79
Kudos: 205
Collections: The Snake Pit





	Crikey!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Puzzl3cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puzzl3cat/gifts).



> Puzzl3cat posed the idea of the late, much beloved Steve Irwin coming across Snake Crowley. This is the result!  
> Cloaca-probing snakey internal monologue by [ Tamaradactyl ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamaradactyl/pseuds/Tamaradactyl)  
> Concept and illustration by [ Puzzl3cat ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puzzl3cat/pseuds/Puzzl3cat)
> 
> TW for non-con handling of snake genitalia.

**Spring, 1998**

**South Downs**   
  


“Crikey! I didn’t think we’d be finding one of these fellas so early on, but look what we’ve got here!” Steve gently held up a thick dull coloured reptile. “See here, this looks like a snake doesn’t he? Well he’s not! This is a European reptile called a slow worm, he’s basically a legless lizard, not dangerous at all. He doesn’t have venom or even constrict anything, he’s a harmless little bugger, pretty rare.” He placed the slow worm back down in the grass again, and the cameraman followed it for a few feet as it wriggled away.  
  
“Now in England they only have two species of snake, the grass snake, which is also harmless, and the adder, their only venomous snake, who you can recognise by the diamond pattern on their backs, but they’re real sneaky at hiding in leaf litter, their camouflage is so great you can almost stand on them before you see them. We’ll be on the hunt for those fellas today, and if we get lucky, I might get to show you one!”

Steve stood in his usual khaki shirt and shorts in the gently waving grass of the downland, on the edge of an ancient oak woodland, surrounded by the film crew and director. Clouds scudded across the sky painting the rolling hills with rapidly changing patches of sunlight and shade as a brisk wind swirled the grass and treetops. For an early summer day it was both bright and cold. 

Steve had spotted something else. “Hey! See here, on the edge of the wood too - now there’s what’s almost certainly a badger sett, you can see the scratch marks and the droppings around outside, and look here, see that? That distinctive black and grey fur caught on the low branch there? That’s how we know this is a badger sett and not a fox’s earth. Now we won’t be seeing any of these beautiful badgers until nightfall, they’re asleep all day, but we’ll be coming back with the night vision cameras later on tonight and we’ll see if we can show you some.”

The director called cut and Steve paused for a drink of water. They’d covered red squirrels the previous day, red stags the week before in Scotland, roe and fallow deer, then foxes and bats were planned for next week. It was a tight schedule. Although most of these were commonplace for Brits, they’d be exciting for international viewers. The slow worm had been a nice surprise, but it was the adder he was really after - the UK’s only venomous snake and a real highlight he wanted for the series, and snakes were his speciality. 

“Right guys, Chris Packham said that his team put some wiggly tin down in the next field, that if we’re in luck, some grass snakes and adders might have crawled under to bask, let’s go take a look shall we?” 

* * *

**Serpent Trail, also South Downs**

Crowley was a city demon. He hated hiking on principle, as it was very hard to manage hills and uneven terrain in his tight trousers. He slapped at the insects, cursed the underbrush, which was snagging and dirtying up his clothes, and he felt generally miserable and sorry for himself as he made his way along the South Downs trail. 

How did he even get himself in this predicament? For some stupid reason Hell had decided they needed Crowley in particular to take care of this temptation. He didn’t even keep up with human politics, he thought as he slapped at another fly, missing the damn thing as it buzzed around his head. He snapped his fingers and the fly fell from the air, dead. 

The mission was pretty straightforward. Apparently some Tory MP tosser needed tempting into backing a particularly evil bill in parliament. His name was Tarquin McFarland and he owned a country estate nearby. Crowley was supposed to “accidentally” run into him while hiking and then do what he did best. He’d been shown a picture of McFarland, a right pompous looking ass with a great big moustache. He liked to walk about with his black Labrador gundogs, so he shouldn’t be too hard to spot.

The mission may be straightforward enough, but it lacked the comforts of a nice London temptation, where he could slither up to someone in a cozy bar, while drinking something alcoholic in nature, and have a bit of fun. No, this was slogging it along a trail on a cloudy and chilly day, being attacked by insects and no alcohol in sight. 

He wanted to get this cursed mission over with quickly, because he’d promised the angel a nice dinner at the new sushi restaurant that had opened recently. Raw fish and rice sounded awful but the angel was eager to try it.

He’d hiked along the trail for what seemed like an eternity, with no dogs or Tories in sight. He stopped at a sign, which was a trail marker. “Serpent Trail,” it read. He smiled despite the chill. Serpent trail, indeed.

But that sign got him thinking. _Serpent_. It didn’t look as though his target was showing up any time soon, and he was chilled through and through. Not to mention tired from the damn hiking. If he could find a warm spot to snake out somewhere and rest up just a bit...

He hugged himself futilely, shivering a bit. It really was cold, damp and miserable. Then, in the distance, something caught his attention. Something was _shining_ out in the field. There was an opening in the clouds, and a patch of sun was falling right on a nice flat piece of wiggly tin: an old corrugated roofing panel someone had left out there. For a snake, it would be an ideal place to hide underneath, warm up and have a bit of a lie down. After all, if Tarquin the Tory tosser wasn’t going to show…

Crowley walked off the trail, ignoring the signs commanding, “Stay On Trail.” He made his way over to the sheet of corrugated tin and felt it. It had absorbed a good amount of heat from the sun shining on it. His hands warmed to the touch, and he couldn’t help sighing with pleasure. 

There was no reason why he couldn’t take a little break from this abysmal assignment. Just a little snooze in a warm spot wouldn’t hurt a thing. 

Crowley looked around furtively, making absolutely sure he was alone. Then, he went through the little ritual he unconsciously did every time he transformed into his serpentine form. He cracked his neck, stretched his muscles, and willed himself into his snake form, though a bit smaller than the one he’d had in Eden. He slithered under the wriggly tin, silently thanking whoever had left it there. He lay belly down in the cozy space, hissing with relief as he absorbed the warmth. After a bit, he coiled himself up and drifted off…

He was still half asleep when he heard the racket. No, not just racket. _Humans_ . Mmm, probably just dreaming. Nobody out here, after all, he’d just snooze a bit more. But the voice was getting closer. And louder. And it was… _Australian?_

“So that, ladies and gentlemen, was the grass snake, completely harmless of course, like all the wildlife we’ve seen here in the South Downs. Now here, you see this piece of wriggly tin? This is what we call reptile refugia. We set out squares of this tin because it absorbs the heat and provides a bit of hiding space underneath. This attracts snakes because they’re looking for warmth and privacy. Let’s lift it up and have a look…. _CRIKEY!_ ”

Crowley startled awake, popping his head up as the light hit him. Someone had rudely lifted off his nice warm shelter. _WTF??_

A human, with a mop of sandy hair and dressed all in khaki, was standing half crouched in front of him. He was waving excitedly at him while another human stood there with a camera—one of those big buggers on a tripod. He was talking like a madman, gesturing at the camera, and then at him, words tumbling out a mile a minute. And he kept gesturing at him for some reason.

“Look at that. Look at that, right here in the South Downs, I’ve never seen the likes of it! We’ve seen the slow worm, we’ve seen adders, whoever this big guy is, he probably isn’t native. I don’t know what we’re dealing with, I’ve never seen this species of snake before! Let’s get a closer look, but I’ve got to be careful. I don’t even know if he’s venomous.”

Yup, thick Aussie accent there. What the fuck was happening? One minute he’d been cozied up and napping, minding his own business, and now...

Something clicked in Crowley’s snake brain. Aussie, clad all in khaki, film crew… _Oh shit_ . No, it couldn’t be. Crocodile Hunter (Irwin, was it?) here? In southern England? _Why, WTF_?

He was approaching Crowley now, still crouching and beginning to reach out towards him. The human seemed harmless enough, but the demon’s snake instincts kicked in. He did NOT want to be handled, certainly not on television, and he went into defense mode. He raised his head up in as threatening a manner as he could and gave the khaki clad human his best hiss. This at least made him pause, and he continued with his excited monologue at the camera.

“Crikey! All right, mate, take it easy. He’s gettin’ a bit riled now. We’ve woken ‘im up, and he’s not happy…”

_No shit I’m not happy. Really just trying to nap here, do you mind?_

“Look at that! This gorgeous snake’s got the colouring of a red bellied black snake, but those are native to Australia. And this bloke’s a bit bigger, with a bigger head and gorgeous yellow eyes. This snake could be an illegal import that someone let loose! Let’s get a better look.”

He reached out again. Crowley gave another warning hiss and raised up as far as he could, pulling back a little as if to strike. He didn’t want to hurt him, but maybe this demented human would get the hint.

But no. He’d decided to circle around Crowley instead.

_What the…_

Before he knew it, he’d been grabbed by the tail, and was being pulled and lifted up.

 _Of all the nerve. Grabbing the Serpent of Eden by the tail, was he?_

Okay, no more playing Mr. Nice Snake.

Before he could be fully lifted into the air, he whipped back, hissed and struck out. He didn’t intend to really bite the handsy human, but he did want to give him a good scare.

But Irwin just danced away from him, still holding him by the tail, letting out a “Whoop” and jabbering at him and the camera the whole time. _Bless it all, the human was enjoying himself_.

“Whoa there, easy, fella. ‘Course, I don’t know if it’s actually a male or female, not until I get a better look…”

 _Oh no, you don’t_ , thought Crowley. If this Irwin bloke thought he was going to examine his meat and two veg on live television, he had another thing coming.

He whipped around and struck out again, repeatedly, and if a bit of fang made contact with a hand or leg, well so be it. This was war.

But he had not figured on Irwin’s expertise in leaping and dancing away from striking snakes while simultaneously groping them. Before he knew it, he was upside down and dangling in a very undignified manner. One of Irwin’s hands held him by the tail and the other was sliding along his… _oh, Satan_. How humiliating. He thrashed about halfheartedly, but he knew he was as good as defeated.

“Right, so I’m pretty sure this handsome snake’s a male. Look here, he’s got a thicker tail at the base than we’d expect from a female.” Here he held Crowley up to the camera, so the whole fucking world could get a good look at his privates. 

“You can see here where it doesn’t thin out til the very tip, and that’s usually indicative of a male. Now, if this were a tame snake, I could insert a lubricated probe gently into the cloaca. That’s this part right here. Easy, mate. I don’t think he likes me touching ‘im there. I can’t probe him here, cuz he’s a bit feisty…”

Crowley had renewed his efforts to get free, but Irwin had a firm grasp on him.

Then he felt a hand up on his neck, as his tail was thankfully released. Crowley gained some leverage by wrapping his tail around the human’s arm. 

He was pointing Crowley’s face into the camera. Oh great, a close up.

“Crikey, he’s a real beauty, this snake, isn’t he? Look at those yellow eyes, and the gorgeous red and black colouration on this big boy. I’ve never seen the like of this exotic snake, and it’s amazing that we found him curled up here, in a wild patch of southern England! What a find!”

Crowley puffed up a bit at the praise, despite his annoyance. He _was_ a handsome snake.

The human stroked Crowley on the head a bit, heaping more compliments on him, calling him a handsome boy. He was not going to fall for the flattery, however. He would _not_ press his head up into the thick finger petting his head, no matter how nice it felt.

But he was tired, and the petting was relaxing him. He realized he had stopped thrashing and had wound himself around the human’s arm.

“There you are, handsome,” Irwin cooed. “You see, he’s settled down a bit, and we can get a good look at this exotic animal. He’s definitely not native, and that worries me. We can’t just go letting him go again, we need to identify him and get him somewhere safe. He might not survive out here, he’s most likely been dumped or escaped from a collector, so let’s get him to a proper home eh?”

Crowley was just being lulled into the soothing sensation of being wrapped around a warm body with head pats when he was unceremoniously dumped into an old pillowcase, the neck was tied up and he was being slung over someone’s shoulder and carried away. 

He was being snakenapped. Fuck. 

It was a couple of rather uncomfortable hours being lugged around the English countryside in a pillowcase being hefted by a crew member, before he was plonked on the back seat of a car and driven somewhere. A little while later he was being lifted again and carried indoors. 

“Hey Simon!” Steve’s voice boomed out, enthusiastic as ever. “Chris said you’d be the people to bring this little bugger to, found a non native snake when we were out shooting today, d’you want to fire up your cameras and we can do a little collab shot, then leave him with you?”

Crowley was left in his bag on a table and the voices receded into another room. He wondered if he should risk changing back yet and making a run for it, but before he could make up his mind, he heard the door open again and more people came in. More camera crew by the sounds of it, he was surrounded on all sides. 

Another voice spoke up. “Hi and welcome to Wildlife SOS, I’m Simon Cowell* and today we have a special guest, Steve Irwin, all the way from Australia, now he’s got his film crew with him today as well so it’s a bit crowded in here. They’ve been looking for adders today but you said you found a non native snake instead, Steve?”

“That’s right, not entirely sure what he is, or even for certain if it’s a he, the tail is a bit thicker but that’s not always a certain way to sex them, so we’d better do that, so if it’s going to a zoo we can pair it up with a mate.”

 _WHAT_ ? Thought Crowley, _Nononono, this was NOT happening._

But oh boy, it was. 

A skilled hand had plunged into the pillowcase and he was being grabbed firmly behind the back of his head, while another hand grabbed his tail. The camera lights were blinding and he couldn’t make out everything around him clearly, he wriggled and hissed. 

“Crikey, he’s a feisty one, we don’t know if he’s venomous or not, so we gotta go careful here…Simon, can you lube up that probe, I’ll hold him steady and you do the honours, mate…”

Crowley was screaming internally. 

“Now you see here…” Steve picked Crowley up, and his privates were treated to an extreme camera close up. “Down toward the tail we have the cloaca, sometimes called the vent, that’s the genital opening as well as the anal opening combined. So from the outside there’s very little difference between male and female snakes. How we find out for certain is to take this little rod, lube it up a little and…”

_MY CLOACA IS EXIT ONLY!_

“There we go, what a little beauty…”

 _*internal screaming intensifies*_ Crowley writhed and tried to coil up as the probe was inserted into his cloaca and poked around trying to measure down to his bits. Someone was going to pay for this. He was going to come up with an entire new circle of hell just for wildlife videographers. Probes were going to be involved, this time without lube. Stuff it, _cacti_ were going to be involved. 

“Now an interesting thing about snakes is that they often have two penises, called hemipenes. When we probed this little guy, we could tell from the distance that he is, indeed a little guy, so if we take the probe out again, and massage his tail up just like this, we should be able to get a peek…”

 _Oh my satan they were really doing it._ _  
_ _Noooooo._ _  
_ NO.  
Nope.  
They aren’t…  
THEY CAN’T.  
Oh GOD THEY CAN.  
Shit shit shit shit!  
Stop manhandling me, you over-friendly weirdo!  
I’ll show _you_ a beauty in a minute.  
Stop massaging my tail!  
STTAAAHHHHPPP.  
Fuck it feels good actually.  
Oh no.  
Nooooo.  
Too late.  
Just lay back and think of England yeah? Or should that be Australia considering who’s molesting my snakey bits?

Crowley wriggled as firm hands were massaging up his tail, and fuck it if it didn’t actually feel kind of good. 

_Mark me down as annoyed_ **_and_ ** _horny_. 

One of the bastards was squeezing his hemipenes up and out of his vent for the whole world to see. Crowley briefly wondered how one could auto-discorporate. 

“There we go, will you look at that? Fascinating! You see there, those are the hemipenes. Two penises on our lovely boy snake. Let’s get a good close up.”

“Ok, I think we’ve stressed this poor bugger out enough, probably best get him in a box for now. We’re still not sure of his species so we might have to send him off to a local zoo for the specialists there to identify him and find somewhere for him to live…”

Steve went to lower Crowley into a large plastic box, and as he did, Crowley seized his chance and lashed out, successfully hooking his fangs into Simon’s finger. Simon was his usual restrained self, and managed to refrain from swearing with skill borne from years of dealing with biting animals whilst on national television. 

“Ow.”

_Was that it?_

“Ow, that really hurt, thank you…c’mon, let go.”

Crowley didn’t let go. 

“Oh now that really is very rude, oi, that’s _not_ very friendly… let… go…”

_Nope. You deserved this you bastard._

“Hey, c’mon fella, please, that really is rather painful.”

 _Good._  
  
“Come on now, that’s not very nice is it?”

 _I’m a demon I’m not_ **_nice_ **, Crowley hissed inside his own head, and wriggled his fangs deeper.

“I know, fella, I know, it’s not fun, alright fella, c’mon… there’s a good boy, there’s a good boy…”

 _‘M not_ **_good_ ** _! I’m a DEMON._ Crowley bit down harder.

“Right that really is enough now, fella, I’m getting rather cross, come on, let go…” Simon gently squeezed the corners of Crowley’s mouth until he was forced to open his jaws and release the now thoroughly bitten finger. He glared at his captor as he was plonked in the large plastic tub and the lid hurriedly slammed down on top, sealing him in save for a few air holes. 

The box was lifted and carried, he heard doors swing and the crunch of feet on gravel. The box was set down and he heard the human walk away. Crowley had had enough. 

He changed back into his humanoid form, immediately squashed up in the box like a contortionist, pressing up against the lid. He heard footsteps returning and froze. Someone tried to lift the box. 

“Bloody ‘ell, what the fuck ‘ave they got in ‘ere? Oi, give us an ‘and!”

More footsteps, someone grabbed the other side of the box and started lifting, then it was placed down with a thunk, he heard a tailgate being slammed. More footsteps approached and Steve’s voice said “Oh thanks, guys, me and Simon’ll drive him down to the Zoo, thanks for all your help, mate!”  
  
An engine roared into life and they were moving. He guessed he was in the back of a pick up truck from the wind noise. Right, this might be his easiest chance to escape. He’d wait until they got to a junction or a stop light and break out then run.

The vehicle slowed and came to a halt, engine idling, he could hear other traffic stopped around them, this was it. Crowley surged upwards, breaking the lid off the plastic box, rising like the demon from hell that he was with a furious scream. Steve and Simon turned and stared open-mouthed out of the back window of the cab as Crowley leapt over the side of the vehicle, stumbled as he hit the tarmac, sprinted for the verge, crashed through a hedge and landed sprawled in a ditch, breathing heavily. 

Simon stared at Steve incredulously. 

“Crikey.”

  
  


**(LATER THAT EVENING)**

Aziraphale opened the door and Crowley lurched into the bookshop without so much as a greeting, heading straight to the drinks cabinet. 

“Crowley? What in blazes? We should have been at the restaurant two hours ago. I called and left a message on your telephone device, I was getting worried. Crowley? Crowley, why aren’t you saying anything?”

Crowley turned around, having poured himself a very large drink. He downed an inhuman amount of alcohol in one single gulp and stared wild-eyed at Aziraphale.

“Angel, just...just. Don’t ask. Just don’t. Ever.”

It was then that Aziraphale realized how disoriented and disheveled Crowley looked, as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was. The demon walked as steadily as he could to the sofa. Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice he sat more gingerly than usual. He lowered his bum down to the seat but winced a bit. He finally settled on a sort of sideways sprawl, still staring into space and clutching his drink. His hair was wild, with clumps of grass stuck in it. His clothing was rumpled and dirty. What on Earth had the demon been doing?

“Crowley, are you quite alright? What happened, my dear?”

Crowley took another drink and shook his head. 

“Cloaca,” he croaked. “Why? _Why?_ ”

Aziraphale decided to sit with the demon, not attempting to engage him further. Crowley finally fell asleep on the sofa, and he covered him with a comfy tartan blanket.

In the morning Crowley was gone, having left a note that read simply, “Back at my flat. Thanks. Will call soon. C.”

The demon didn’t bring up the incident when they finally met for sushi a week later, and in fact never mentioned it again. Aziraphale decided it was best to let it alone.

* * *

**Present Day**

Crowley sat with Aziraphale in front of the large flat screen TV, and he really wasn’t paying attention to the show. The angel had broken out a bottle of excellent wine, which they were only halfway through, and they were relaxing. The addition of a television to the bookshop had been a concession to the demon and it only miraculously appeared after closing, when Crowley was over.

Aziraphale was messing around with the remote, trying to get the hang of it, and he’d clicked onto one of the documentary channels. 

_“And now let’s return to Lost Wildlife Episodes, as Steve makes an unusual find….”_

Crowley only half heard as he topped off his and Aziraphale’s wine glasses. 

“Look, Crowley! That snake reminds me of someone…”

Crowley looked up. There was a man in khaki handling a black snake. A black snake with a red belly, in fact. He was dangling it in front of the camera, holding it by the tail.

A memory came flooding back to Crowley. A memory he’d tried to bury for twenty years, of being out in the field on assignment, snaking out, taking a snooze and then... 

_No. No, it couldn’t be. But it was._

Crowley choked, sputtering, and a fine mist of Chateauneuf-du-Pape sprayed over the rug, the angel, and himself.

“Crowley! What on earth?”

Crowley stared at the TV, open mouthed, a dribble of fine wine still running down his chin. _No. No, noooo._ _The snake was him_. _That day, back in the late 90s_ , he’d managed to put it out of his mind, or so he thought. 

He watched himself being dangled by the tail. Then watching himself whipping around and striking at Steve Irwin. And then having his snake privates touched, followed by being petted like a...well, like a pet. It was absolutely surreal, watching his snake self on the TV being manhandled by the late wildlife expert. He sat frozen in shock. 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Aziraphale was shaking. Oh, Satan, was the angel crying? There was a tear rolling down his cheek. He had his head in his hands, and he was making noises Crowley had never heard him make before. Including snorting.

And then it hit him. The angel wasn’t crying.

He was laughing. 

He was actually laughing at the sight of Crowley’s serpentine self being dangled in front of a television camera and then petted into submission by the khaki clad wildlife expert.

He’d never seen the angel laugh so hard. He was turning red and practically wheezing. By the time the episode got around to the cloaca probing, Aziraphale was bent over, laughing till he cried, snorting and slapping his knee. 

The bastard.

“You know, angel, it’s really not funny.” He groused. “Not funny at all.”

Aziraphale looked at him for a moment, struggling to keep a straight face, then collapsed into another fit of helpless giggles.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> * No, not THAT Simon Cowell, the other one. This one was rather more into wrangling wildlife in predicaments than hurling carefully crafted insults at aspiring musicians. Simon has presented “Wildlife SOS” on British TV since the 1990s and continues to this day although now on youtube at https://www.youtube.com/user/TheWildlifeAidTV You can also find old tv episodes online. When you see him getting bitten by various wild animals, you’ll see why I had to write in him getting chomped by Crowley, because he’s so terribly gentle, British and polite about the whole thing. He was awarded an MBE (a knighthood) in 2006 for his services to wildlife. 
> 
> Chris Packham, also mentioned briefly in this, is another famous British wildlife documentary presenter, who used to present kids wildlife tv show “Going Wild” in the 1990s, and again continues to do various wildlife TV stuff to this day.


End file.
